


A Bad (Good?) Day

by An_Odd_Idea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Tony Stark, But like the emotional kind, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Platonic Cuddling, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:06:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26598025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/pseuds/An_Odd_Idea
Summary: Sometimes Tony’s brain is out to get him, today especially.  Peter has an idea to help.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	A Bad (Good?) Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baloobird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baloobird/gifts).



> Hey friend!!! You have no idea how fun it was seeing you around tumblr and talking about Comfortember and thinking “hehehe, they have no idea!” Sorry the title is stupid.
> 
> Just a warning: this fic has a detailed description of an anxiety attack (maybe technically not, I’ve never been able to find a good definition of what one is exactly, but something like that) so be careful if that’s something that might cause you to have one too

It was a bad day.

Tony wasn’t sure _why_ it was a bad day, exactly, but it was. It was a bad day in the way his heart beat faster than he knew it should, even though nothing was happening. And the way he hadn’t eaten all day, because he was honestly feeling pretty fragile in the not-throwing-up department. And the way his hands felt weak, although he could easily chalk that up to the fact that he hadn’t eaten, so maybe that part didn’t count.

And the looming sense of dread. That was always fun.

He didn’t even know what he was dreading; that was the worst part. Not for lack of trying, as his brain was clamoring to fill that void for him, but he carefully blocked it out. If he could just get through for a while, maybe he’d be in a better state by the time Peter showed up, and that would at least be something.

He was not in a better state by the time Peter showed up.

Peter, thankfully, was his normal chatty self, and Tony felt himself relaxing slightly as he was forced to focus on the new distraction from his unease. That was good, he thought. Maybe he’d be able to get out of it soon.

Alas, it wasn’t to be, and as soon as he had gotten used to the new level of input, the anxiety came creeping back. That was fine; it wasn’t as if he hadn’t dealt with this before. Tony busied his hands again with the wires he was replacing, not liking how weak they felt.

“Are you okay Mr. Stark?”

Tony frowned. He thought the kid’s senses only applied to immediate danger? 

“Never better,” he replied. “Yourself?” 

He offered a less than convincing smile, and Peter narrowed his eyes.

“Okay, I haven’t slept much and I’m a little out of it, but it’s all good.”

Peter didn’t look entirely satisfied, but he didn’t press further, and Tony was grateful. Anyone who found out how anxious he was at the moment would assume there must be a cause, and he’d definitely sound crazy trying to explain that there wasn’t. People always thought there must be a cause, like public speaking or spiders or-

_Aliens_.

Tony’s heart faltered. Well _now_ there was a cause.

He threw his mind into reverse and tried furiously to push the thought right back out, but it was like trying to snatch a piece of fruit out of a blender that was already running. Ordinarily it might not have been, but on a day like this he was already lost the instant the thought had occurred to him.

“Hey Mr. Stark?”

_Dammit_. “Hm?”

“Have you ever seen the _Emperor’s New Groove_?”

_Emperor’s New Groove?_ Tony braved the churning mess his mind had become, but he came up empty. “Can’t say I have.” _Did he sound normal?_ He hoped so. “Do I need to?”

“If you want to.”

“Well, give me the rundown.” He definitely didn’t sound normal.

“Well it’s about this guy who gets turned into a llama...”

Peter went on. Tony wondered when the chitauri would come back, or when the new aliens would come. Because one way or another, the aliens were coming, he could feel it in his bones. They were going to show up in the sky, and the world would panic, and he wouldn’t know what to do. He’d have no idea what to do.

“So then they have to go get the thing to change him back and it’s a big adventure, but really funny,” Peter concluded, and Tony mentally kicked himself for missing most of it.

“Sounds great, kid,” he lied. He wished he didn’t sound so winded, but air was a precious commodity as he forced himself to take slow breaths when all he wanted was to start panting.

Peter beamed. “Wanna watch it with me?”

“I’d love to.” _God, what was going to happen to them?_

“Cool.” Peter took him by the arm and started tugging him toward the elevator.

“Wait, now?”

“Sure!”

“But we’ve...” Actually, watching a movie might be perfect. He’d have at least an hour to get his thoughts under control without Peter observing him. “All right.”

“You’ll love it.”

Tony forced a smile and allowed Peter to pull him into the elevator. _Did aliens have elevators on their ships, that they used to transport prisoners to execute them or experiment on them or whatever aliens did?_ Tony stared at the numbers of the floors going by. If they did, he hoped he’d take this ride alone. If he made himself the biggest threat, he might.

“I can hear your heart, you know.”

_Ah_.

“Mr. Stark?”

“I’m alright.”

“No offense, but you’re a liar.”

Tony was pretty sure that being a human stethoscope was cheating, but he couldn’t argue. 

“Would watching a movie actually help? That’s just what I thought of,” said Peter.

“Honestly I have no idea. I might need some time to just... think.”

“Just be scared?”

Tony sighed.

“Come on, I have an idea.” Peter took him by the hand and pulled him along again when the doors opened. “Do you think Miss Potts would mind if we borrowed her nail polish?”

“What?”

“It works, I promise. I’m good at this.”

“Sure, as long as we don’t set it on fire. Got in trouble for that once.”

Peter gave him a quizzical look.

“It’s fine.”

Peter was still holding his hand, and Tony gripped back a little harder than was probably necessary. He wondered what Peter would think when the aliens came. He didn’t think to question the kid’s plan any further while they went in search of nail polish.

“Pink is good,” said Peter. “Usually I do clear cause Flash makes fun of me enough already, but it’s nice to be able to see it.”

“And what are we doing with pink nail polish?” Tony asked, once Peter sat him down at the table and took a seat across from him.

“I’m gonna paint your nails.”

Tony withdrew his hands.

“Or you can do mine first. I know it sounds weird but it really, really works, and you don’t have to leave it.”

His tone was pleading, and Tony tried not to imagine what he might say when they found themselves surrounded when the aliens came. He offered his hands.

“Good.” Peter patted the back of his left hand where he had put it flat on the table and opened the bottle of polish. Tony wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell. “So it’s kinda weird; you can feel the cold through your fingernail if you pay attention.”

“And that helps?”

“Yep.” Peter leaned studiously over the table and swiped pink polish onto Tony’s smallest nail with the tiny brush.

Tony looked over his head at the wall. If the aliens came, when they came, he didn’t want to think about what would happen to Peter. Or Pepper. Or Rhodey. He had to admit he was afraid for himself too, or at least for what the others might see.

“Here, you do mine first,” said Peter, pulling him out of his thoughts again. “You have to pay attention or it doesn’t work.”

Tony accepted the tiny brush from him and hesitated, hovering over his finger.

“Don’t worry about doing a good job.”

He was definitely going to worry about doing a good job. Tony carefully brushed the color onto Peter’s nail. It was weird the way the brush slid, much smoother than he might have expected for how sticky nail polish appeared to be. It looked decent, too, not bad for a first try. The next one definitely wasn’t. 

“You have to get more,” said Peter. “It doesn’t hold much.”

Tony dipped the little brush into the little bottle and wiped it delicately on the slender neck like he had seen Pepper do, and went for another try at Peter’s ring finger. It was quite nice, actually, how the color swept out smoothly under the brush. If he watched hard enough, he could get his mind to focus on that, and his anxiety was left to stew quietly in his chest for a while. Honestly it wasn’t much of an improvement yet, and he felt rather like throwing up, but at least he didn’t have to _think_ about it as much.

“Look how it goes _swoosh_ , Mr. Stark.” Peter must have been eavesdropping on his heartbeat again. That really wasn’t fair.

“Swoosh?”

“Give it.” Peter took the brush back and grabbed his hand to paint a long stripe of polish down his middle fingernail. “See? Swoosh.”

“Uh-huh.” Tony took the brush back and continued, long smooth strokes of pink polish that were, honestly, strangely calming to watch.

“You have to say it.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“C’mon, just once.”

“Not on your life.”

“Please?” said Peter, and Tony didn’t even have to look to feel the puppy dog eyes he was making.

“Fine. Swoosh.”

It was such a strange word coming out of his mouth that he caught himself on the beginning of a laugh. Peter, being Peter, dissolved into fits of giggles, and his laugh was so irresistible that Tony actually cracked a genuine smile. 

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Sorry!” Peter squeaked, clearly not sorry at all. “You don’t usually say stuff like that and it sounds funny!”

“I’m sure it does.” But Tony’s chest felt lighter as he finished painting Peter’s fingernails a shiny pink.

“Now I do yours. See if you can feel how cold it is.” Peter took the brush and Tony’s hand and made him lay it flat on the table. “But if you don’t pay attention I’ll make you do ‘em yourself, so watch.”

Tony watched. He was definitely breathing easier now, and if he focused on the sweep of the brush, he could almost ignore the still-irregular flutter of his heart. It felt like a dying moth.

“Can you feel it?” said Peter.

If he concentrated, Tony found he could indeed feel the cold of the polish through his nail, unless he was just imagining it. “Barely.”

“Isn’t it weird?”

“A little.” 

Without any trigger, the thoughts from before were flooding right back in. They were like that sometimes, and Tony should be used to it by now, but he still found himself floundering because he didn’t want them to come back, he didn’t want them to come back.

“It’s okay.” Peter picked Tony’s hand up off the table and held it lightly to paint his thumb nail. “You know, it’s always hard to make it nice on your thumb because it needs more paint, but I think I did a good job, look.”

“Uh-huh.” It felt hard to get a decent breath again.

“I know you’re freaking out again, but that’s okay. If you watch how smooth it is, it helps you take smooth breaths.”

Tony watched, and he tried. Fortunately, it was a bit easier to control the same thoughts the second time around. He kept breathing. The nail polish was still weirdly cold, and Peter’s hand was warm, and the brush was a little bit mesmerizing if he watched closely enough. He tried to push all the other thoughts out.

“I still want you to watch _Emperor’s New Groove_ ,” said Peter. “It’s really good, and it might help.”

“Let’s do it,” said Tony, not one to argue at the moment.

“Good.” Peter repositioned his hand slightly to finish painting the last two nails. “You find it while I put this away. Don’t touch anything or it’ll smear everywhere.”

“Got it.” It was funny to be the one following Peter’s directions, but they seemed to be working again, so Tony wasn’t going to complain.

“Done!” Peter stopped to admire his handiwork. “I think you look nice.” 

“I always look nice.”

Peter snorted and left with the bottle of nail polish. Holding his still-drying hands awkwardly apart, Tony made his way to the couch and asked FRIDAY to pull up the movie. Rather than give himself a chance to slip back into any of his old thoughts for a third time, he examined his hands, noting the place on his right middle finger where a small bubble in the polish had apparently been. It was interesting to look at; his fingernails were never shiny and pink, and they didn’t often have craters in them either. It was a good distraction, anyway.

“I’m back!” Peter hopped onto the couch next to him, and Tony was pretty sure its life expectancy had decreased significantly as soon as the kid had been introduced to his own life.

“FRI, start movie.”

Peter scooted closer, and Tony moved his arm to let him lean against his side.

“Will I turn you pink?”

“It’s probably mostly dry now.”

Tony wrapped his arms around Peter and squeezed him tightly. He was solid, and something about that helped Tony’s heart feel a little more solid too. Not so much like a dying moth now.

“Are hugs good?” said Peter, with his eyebrows raised in such a hopeful expression that Tony would probably have said yes no matter what.

“Hugs are good.”

Peter gave a satisfied little nod and leaned a bit more heavily against him, putting his head on Tony’s shoulder. “Now you have to actually watch.”

Tony wasn’t sure what he actually thought of the movie, but Peter cracking up next to him definitely made it a good one in his book. If he could just stay right here, in whatever headspace he had found now, that would be good. It was far from perfect, but it was good. He drummed his fingers absently on Peter’s arm.

“Are you still doing okay?”

“I thought you could just read that with your weird senses.”

“Well it’s nicer to ask as long as you’re gonna tell me.”

“Then I’m good.” Tony laced their pink-nailed fingers together. “I think I owe you a thank-you.”

Peter shrugged. “I get like that too sometimes, and it really helps for some reason, so I thought I’d see if it would help you.”

“It does.” Tony hugged him a little more, not liking the idea of Peter in the same state he’d been in earlier. He dropped a quick kiss to his forehead for good measure. “Thanks, kid.”

“You’re welcome.” Peter snuggled more fully into Tony’s arms like he was made to fit there. “Look, we’re almost to the best part!”

“Haven’t you said that six times already?”

“They’re all the best part, but this is _really_ the best part.”

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair, and it was a bad day, but maybe part of it could still be considered a good day.  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! We say no to toxic masculinity in this house!
> 
> Please don’t copy or reproduce this work outside this site 
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, or come visit me on tumblr @an-odd-idea


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